The live band at Red Kiva(this Tuesday JULY 29th) will blow your mother-f-ing lid. COME

He sings Lenny Kravitz, "Lady", at Karaoke... with his sunglasses on.

Aside from stealing my idea... ahem. This might be the coolest/cutest/awesomest thing that has made me smile in, like, the last few months:

And it makes me think about the Sesame Street kids of 2008. I mean, dang. I was a kid of Sesame Street circa 1988. And to this day I can still, on cue, recite to you the millions of classic songs from what I grew up on.

Like this:

Or this(which STILL makes me tear up...):

Or this(UM. Do you even know that I just recited the entire song while watching this...):

I keep thinking about Caleb, the little guy I get to babysit for. How, in a few years he might just be getting his groove on to musicians and music that is still not written and Sesame Street skits that aren't around yet and in twenty years watching old clips that he will remember every single word too and knowing that his then forty-year-old uncle got to watch the same show he got to watch and that, really, really no matter HOW different we all are from each other and no matter what person you want for president or what religion you believe or differences we all have with each other...

we all will always have Sesame Street.

So once upon a time there was a boy named Byron that wanted to tell stories. When he was a wee little lad he did things like write stories about dinosaurs falling in love and dogs getting lost in space and mice telling each other ghost stories(apparently, this wee little lad had an animal thing going on).

Now, that wee little lad is all grown up and actually telling a story on a stage... and it's not about animals. Byron is actually in a theater. Byron is actually doing three shows at this theater!!!! Byron, who is writing in the third person at this very moment is flipping his SHIT out that he is headlining a three day show!

So you should see him.

JULY 23rd, 24th, and 30th, 7:30pm at Chemically Imbalanced Theater!

Details:
An evening of solo performances at Chemically Imbalanced Theater on July 23, 24 & 30th at 7:30 p.m located at 1420 W. Irving Park Rd.(Southport & Irving Park). Tickets are $12 and can be reserved. Easily accessed on Sheridan Red Line stop or by Irving park and Clark street buses. Contact & RSVP #(773)934-1806.

A woman with a walker sits at the table next to Josh and I at the coffee place we're working at. She's got on sunglasses and a Minnie Mouse t-shirt with sequins. Her jewlery looks like it fell of a Christmas tree and she is as short as I am.

"Hey, can you hold this table for me while I sit down?" She yells at me over the swooshing of the milk steamer. "It wobbles when I try to do it myself."

"Of course!" I say with my 4-H 'I can do anything for an elderly person' mentality. I was raised to help old people do things. It's in my blood. I got Boyscout badges for it!

I hold the table with both my hands. She leaves her walker behind her, rests her arms on the table and pulls out the chair to sit.

"Thank you, Honey! It's hard to do it by myself."

"No problem at all!" I say in my best Superman voice.

"I think I'm gonna take you home with me," She says smiling.

Huh. Another one that thinks they don't have to take me out on a date before they try to take me home.

I'm a dork. It's true. I'll admit this.

And while being a dork, your Pop Culture references tend to be something that a) you laugh at yourself because, well, your a dork or b) people tend not to get which really totally bums you out because in your "dorky head" you envision the moment of reference to be this brilliant moment of "totally" by the person that you are referencing with. But in most instances I get a stare and a shake of the head and a "I... I don't get it."

It happens all time. I quote Home Alone. Who quotes Home Alone? Apparently me.

This happens with quotes from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory(Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker!") or Mrs. Doubtfire("Scaliwagggggg!") and it happens with commericals.

"Look over there!" I point to my friend as we are leaving the place we had lunch at while heading down the busy street.

I point over to these really awesome dressed Asian teenagers standing waiting for a the 36 bus downtown. They're totally fresh out of punk meets hip culture with a preppy twist. Just take a second to picture it. But, what's better, they were standing around with their hands in their pockets and their heads tiled and scattered sporadic-like.

"Yah, so... they're cute!" My friend says pulling her cell phone out of her purse and checking her texts. We dodge a dude walking a golden retreiver.

"They look waif-like... you know, like those GAP commercials from the 90's! I love it!"

"What GAP commercials?" She says with her fingers flying around on her cell phone keypad.

"What!??!?!?! WHAT GAP commercials?!?!?!" I say this with a huge hand gesture... of course. "You don't... I can't... Everyone knows the GAP commercials with the waif kids singing famous songs in monotoned voices wearing the new GAP products. I MEAN, I DREAMED of being one of those "COOL" kids who got to stand around and sing "Dress You Up In My Love" while wearing a hip cool fresh GAP vest!!! How can you not know what I'm talking about..."

"I don't... sorry..."

"It's just you then..."

"No... I don't think so... I bet other people don't know what the hell you're talking about."

And so I checked. And she is right. Only a handful of people remember those. Sure they remember Sarah Jessica Parker's and Lenny Kravitz and then people start singing me that stupid Old Navy commercial "Old Navy, Old Navy, Old Navy Performance FLEECE!" and I say: "We're talking about the Gap..." and then they change the subject.

People... do you not remember these????:

IF NOT! Shame. On. You.
I still dream of being one.
Sigh.

The other day at the coffee shop I tried to imitate, to Josh, the sound effects the fire made in the movie Backdraft. Because, um, that's the type of conversations we have.

"It's like: BERRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHWOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! And that's the straightest sound effect you will ever hear me make...." I say using my hand to show an explosion.

He looks at me and says: "Um. Actually... that sounds like a cappuccino machine..."

"And that's the gayest sound effect you will ever hear me make."

It was the other night, after one of those days where everything is sort of a bummer. You know the type of days. Your credit card is slightly maxed and you just saw how much you really owe. You don't get "the call" you've been expecting all week. Ahem. You know, that kind of day.

Josh and I had met after our previous plans at a local bar and we're walking home when we saw they had turned an old sushi joint in to a Karaoke Bar.

"Let's go in! We'll swig one beer and do one song and take off." Josh slugs me excitedly to perk me up.

I tend to agree to things I wouldn't tend to agree to when I am slightly intoxicated. Plus, Josh and I have this thing. We like to try to do random things in the summer. We like to go to restaurants we both have never been or stores we've always walked by or new bars that use to be a sushi place.

There is no one in this bar. I'm telling you it was the bartenders and the waitresses and the DJ. They're leaning against the wood bar. You could hear the moans they made knowing they now have to stay open because two guys HAVE to sing. And it's already, like, one in the morning.

Josh goes up and says:"This is for Byron!" and begins to belt the Josh Eisenberg version of a Rolling Stones song. I would like to tell you which one, but... you know... I was drunk and can't remember.

Then it was my turn.

Here's the thing. I usually don't Karaoke. I think it's a mixture of knowing what I sound like when I sing songs off the radio or on my ipod in the car or in the shower or while getting dressed in my awesome walk-in closet that is big enough to get dressed in to. I also think it has to do with the fact that when I do end up making brash decisions while being intoxicated, such as singing Karaoke, I choose "those" songs. You know... the ones that you should only sing when you are in the car or in the shower or getting dressed in your super huge walk-in closet that you keep accentuating in this story because you're proud you finally cleaned it out.

But when you are with a good friend and they have a long list of Destiny Child songs to chose from... you do things... you do things that involve you singing in front of the wait staff of a sad Karaoke bar.

And so I sang. And Josh laughed and I laughed and I imagined the stools they were putting on top of the tables to let us know the staff wanted to go home because no one else was laughing laughed.

We of course did a second song because no one ever does just one song. And as Josh sang and I downed my beer and the wait staff rolled their eyes, I realized how lucky you can be when you have the right people around that make you feel lucky.

Because sometimes after one of those bummer days... you need that. Yes, a really big clean closet. But also a random stop in to a random Karaoke bar with a friend that has been there for you through your most random shake ups or just for the random days that are bummers.

And sometimes you need "Material Girl" to remind you there are better things in life than being bummed... like diamonds and a really big clean closet.

Did I mention the closet?

I did it with Josh the other day and now, because apparently I have no dignity, I will do it for you.

I love Miley Cyrus.

Sigh.

I think it has to do with the fact that at the age of fourteen I feel I should have been famous... or at least had a music video. Well, I did. But they were on my Dad's camcorder(because that's what we called them back then, "Camcorders" and not DVR's or Digital Recorders or whatever ten year olds are calling them when they are using them at the zoo! YES THE ZOO! A kid that had to be only ten years old was using one of those things that aren't camcorders to film the penguins! WHAT?!) and I would set the tripod up and pretend that I knew all the words to songs by Milli Vanilli and I would imagine myself famous and on MTV when MTV wasn't about really really really really bad and over-exposed Real World episodes and were more about really really really cheesy music videos that VJs like Bill Bellamy and Dan Cortese and Downtown Julie Brown would introduce.

But now I have to be twenty-five and an adoring fan of a girl that has veneers at half my age.

This was my phone conversation with Josh this morning:

Josh: Hello?
Byron: I have a mouse in my house!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Josh: A mouse in your house?
Byron: A mouse in my house!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Josh: Are you sure?
Byron: It's a mouse!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Josh: In your house.
Byron: IN! MY! HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Josh: What is this? A nursery rhyme?

Now, I'm not the type of guy to freak out about these sorts of things. Hey, show me an emergency medical technician's workbook with people missing body parts and I'll probably say something like: "COOOOOOOOOL." Or have baby poop smudged on my arm. I'll probably say: "GROOOOSS" but I wouldn't freak.

But a mouse. In my house? No. No no no no no no nope. No way, man. NO!

I mean I'm a clean guy! Clothes, yes, clothes are all over the place and sometimes all my shoes and some books but I'm not dirty! And it's not because it's a mouse and I'm all not about those. Actually, I think mice are adorable. They remind me of hamsters and I've always wanted a hamster. Well, not now. I did when I was kid, but my mom was all "No." and I was all: "Why?" and she was all: "Because they look like mice." And I was all: "Exactly!"

But they have cages and they are welcomed as pets. They don't just show up in the cabinet under the sink without at least an Evite squeaking it's shitty little squeak at nine in the morning while I'm just waking up!

Plus, I have to figure out what to do with him. You know, I'm not a killer. I mean, come on. He's probably really sweet and plus he looks like a hamster and you know that drill. I can't even think about seeing the cute mouse that doesn't belong in my house in a sad little trap or starving on sticky paper. It's just... it's just so sad... and so un-Buddhist of me. And if I was a Buddhist this would be even more true.

Byron: SO WHAT DO I DO?!!?!?!??
Josh: Well, see if it keeps coming back and if so you're gonna have to get rid of it.
Byron: How?
Josh: You know.
Byron: Josh Eisenberg, I swear to God if that mouse shows up in my bed with me... I will freak my shit out.
Josh: Well maybe he's a good spooner. You know how you love your spooning.
Byron: No. I've already had my fair share of varmints in my bed.
Josh: Mice?
Byron: Boys.